


To the Victor Go the Spoils

by lea_hazel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Community: dragonage_kink, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/F, Femslash, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meme fill for the prompt: "The warden seduces Morrigan although she insists she doesn't like women."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Victor Go the Spoils

"No," said the witch flatly.   
  
"Just count," said Solona, examining her fingernails with feigned disinterest. "Next time we go into the forest, we're bound to encounter some werewolves. We'll count and compare, then we'll know for certain."   
  
"'Tis impossible!" said Morrigan, throwing up her hands. "Improbable, at the very least!"   
  
"I'm telling you, Morrigan," said Solona firmly, finally looking up at her, "I can keep the warriors healed  _and_  beat your body count. Easily." She smiled sweetly at the witch's irritated expression.   
  
"No cowed and collared Andrastian has ever gotten the best of me!" Morrigan retorted angrily. "What are the stakes?"   
  
"Whomever leaves behind the most bodies," said Solona, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "earns one favor from the other, to be claimed at her own convenience."   
  
The witch's face turned instantly. "A favor, you say. Hmm. Perhaps..."   
  
Solona held out her hand, and giggled at Morrigan's put upon expression. "It's custom to shake on a bet, you know."   
  
"Very well," she grumbled, and awkwardly squeezed the Warden's outreached palm. 

***

The following day at sundown, the Wardens and their companions congregated around the central campfire. Solona was sitting near the fire, her enchanter's robes tucked demurely around her, slicing bread for toasting. The bard was listening to their tale of the day's skirmishes, eagerly taking notes in a small leather-bound book. Alistair took on most of the telling, with Sten interjecting as necessary when he inevitably started exaggerating their exploits.   
  
"An ogre and a great bear, you say?" asked Leliana, scribbling with a wicked smile.   
  
"Huge!" said Alistair, gesturing grandly with his arms to illustrate.   
  
"Now," said Solona modestly. "I didn't kill that ogre alone. He was almost drained of blood before my spell stunned him."   
  
"The Warden's feats were... most impressive," said Sten grudgingly. "I believe she felled more enemies than any of us."   
  
"She most certainly did no such thing!" cried out Morrigan, leaping to her feet. "I counted!"   
  
"Did you?" said Leliana with interest, leveling a cool appraising gaze at the angry witch. "You will share your numbers with me, for posterity, yes?"   
  
Morrigan huffed. "We faced three groups of wolves, two groups of Darkspawn, a group of bears and several wild sylvans," she recounted, ticking them off on her fingers. "All told, there were almost fifty felled, of which I dispatched eighteen."   
  
"And I killed twenty," said Solona, spearing the bread on a slender branch with some difficulty.   
  
"Twenty one," corrected Sten. "During the second encounter with the werewolves, two were still alive when I... lost sight of them."   
  
"Impossible!" said Morrigan flatly, crossing her arms over her robes.   
  
" _Very_  interesting!" exclaimed Leliana, scribbling ever faster in her little book.   
  
Solona made a thoughtful noise in her throat. "No, I believe Sten is correct. It  _must_  have been twenty one." She started counting them out on her fingers. "Six hurlocks, two genlocks, three blight wolves, that one great bear--"   
  
"No!" cried out Morrigan. "It cannot be so!"   
  
She sank her face into both hands while Alistair snickered in a highly undignified manner.   
  
"I believe," said Solona, testing the readiness of her toast, "that this settles our little bet from last night?"   
  
"Bet?" asked Leliana, looking up.   
  
"Last night?" asked Zevran, who had appeared from out of nowhere to stand behind Solona's right shoulder and leer.   
  
Solona waved a dismissive hand at all of them. "Private business between us mages."   
  
" _Very well_ ," said Morrigan with obvious reluctance. "I... concede your victory, Warden."   
  
She turned around and would have stalked off to her tent at the edge of the camp, but Solona called out to her.   
  
"Morrigan, wait!"   
  
The witch turned slowly on her heel. "Warden?"   
  
She rummaged in her pack and produced a round object, tossing it to the witch with her best conciliatory expression.   
  
Morrigan caught it with surprising ease. "A skyball, Warden?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "To what end, might I ask?"   
  
"It's a gift," clarified Solona.   
  
"Oh," said the witch. "'Tis... most thoughtful." She turned tail and walked quickly to her tent.   
  
" _Most_  interesting," murmured Leliana. 

***

Morrigan was always the last person awake in the camp -- except whoever had guard duty -- so Solona waited until everyone was fast asleep before making her approach. As she neared Morrigan's campfire she saw that it was dying to embers and heard rustling and murmurs coming from her tent. She stopped a few steps short of the closed tent-flap and cleared her throat. The rustling stopped abruptly.   
  
The tent-flap opened and Morrigan emerged. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Warden."   
  
Solona smiled her sweetest, most disarming smile. Grumpy enchanters and reluctant templars had fallen before it, not to mention her parents in the days when she still lived with them. "Morrigan. Surely you remember out bet of several weeks ago."   
  
Morrigan scowled. "I have not forgotten. Come to claim your favor, have you? I confess I have been waiting for this for some time. I am surprised it took you this long. What will it be, then? Do you wish for arcane secrets out of Flemeth's darkest grimoires, or merely my firstborn?"   
  
"Now, then, Morrigan," said Solona, tilting her head quizzically, "there's no need to be quite so harsh. I thought we had forged an understanding over our weeks of travel together. At least,  _I_  have been trying to understand  _you_."   
  
"Perhaps we have," admitted the witch, marginally more warmly.   
  
"We have shared interests, you know," Solona forged on, "and shared goals as well. If I have come to request something of you I'd like to think of it not as a favor but as an action of mutual benefit."   
  
"Mutual benefit?" repeated Morrigan slowly.   
  
Solona nodded and smiled brightly.   
  
"All right," said the witch. "I am listening. Lay out your offer for me."   
  
The Warden took a step towards her and said, "I think it's time for us to get to know each other better.  _Much_  better."   
  
"I, uh-- I do not know what you mean!"   
  
She reached up and brushed the witch's cheek gently with the tips of her fingers. "Don't be silly, Morrigan," she said softly. "I think you know exactly what I mean."   
  
"Warden!" said Morrigan. "I do not know what put this preposterous idea in your head, for I am certain I did nothing to encourage this."   
  
Solona sighed and dropped her hand. "Really? You've often spoken of your conquests both to me and to our fellow travelers. One might think you were trying to spur further questions, or else drop an unsubtle invitation. After all, you have been with many men."   
  
"No, but-- ah! I do not know what you mean!" she protested. "I have never-- I would never-- with another... woman."   
  
"You  _have_  never or you  _would_  never?" asked Solona. "Because I'm certain the two don't mean the same thing. We have much in common, and I do believe our mutual acquaintance can be... improved upon. Would you not even entertain the thought?"   
  
"I don't know why you ask such things of me, Warden," said Morrigan, turning her head to gaze aimlessly at a spot just beside the dying fire.   
  
Solona took a half-step closer to her, and observed the small shudder that ran through the other woman. "Morrigan," she said softly, and brushed her face again with the back of her fingers. "Just think about it, will you?"   
  
"I do not even know what two women might-- uh--" she wrung her hands nervously, now staring at the Warden's shoes.   
  
Solona laughed deeply. "Don't worry about that," she said, "I can show you  _everything_  you need to know."   
  
Morrigan looked up, alarmed, and Solona took the opportunity to cup her face with one hand and kiss her quickly and softly on the lips.   
  
"Think about it," she whispered in her ear. She turned to find her own tent and bedroll, leaving the struck witch standing silent behind her. 

***

Solona bided her time. It would be no use rushing things if she wanted the witch willing, and Solona  _always_  wanted her partners willing. She waited and watched, more discreetly than Morrigan, who did not come of age in a tower full of heat-struck adolescent mages and had not mastered the art of spying. She waited and felt her uncanny pale yellow eyes on her, day and night.   
  
One quiet evening she was absently scratching the hound behind his ears when she felt again Morrigan's attention focus on her. Solona glanced this way and that. To her left Sten was on watch, steadfast as a rock, and to her right, the witch ineptly hiding her interest by leafing through her tattered grimoire whenever Solona looked her way.   
  
"What do you think?" she asked the dog, smoothing her hand over the bristly fur of his neck and back.   
  
The dog whined.   
  
"You know, you're right," said Solona. She got up and brushed her robes off. "It  _is_  about time I kept my word."   
  
Morrigan's brow furrowed noticeably the closer she approached.   
  
"Good evening, Morrigan," she said sweetly.   
  
"Is it?" replied the witch, not looking up from her open book.   
  
"I think it's a  _lovely_  evening, at any rate," said Solona. She sank down to sit by the crackling fire and held her hands out to warm them. "Have you given any thought to my offer?"   
  
Morrigan choked and sputtered.   
  
She couldn't help but smile. There was something very satisfying in slinking past the mighty witch's defenses, she thought.   
  
"Your offer is... highly irregular," she said, her voice hitching.   
  
Solona shifted to sit closer to her. "Ah," she said, "but you are not a regular woman, nor for that matter am I. And these are not regular times. We may both be dead soon."   
  
"A cheerful thought," remarked Morrigan, regaining some of her composure.   
  
"We are fighting a war, after all," said Solona, "even if it might seem distant on a quiet starry evening such as this."   
  
"True enough," said Morrigan noncommittally.   
  
"Morrigan, you're deflecting," said Solona, slightly cross. "I will be honest with you: your good will is valuable to me, as, I think, mine ought to be to you. If we cannot set aside out differing viewpoints for an hour, how are we to cooperate when the Archdemon is bearing down on us? I need you to end the Blight, and you need me for... many reasons."   
  
The witch raised a fine black eyebrow.   
  
"I know more than you think I do, Morrigan," said Solona.   
  
"You believe I should lie with you to... promote the end of the Blight?" said Morrigan slowly.   
  
Solona smiled. "As a queen forges an alliance, with whatever tools present themselves. Good will, as I said. Would it be so dreadful? You may enjoy it."   
  
"I see." Slowly she closed the grimoire and stowed it in her dilapidated pack. "You claim to be adept at such dealings."   
  
"I've never had any complaints," said Solona, starting to feel quite put-upon. "Try me, if you will. Should the experience displease, we can always retreat to where we last stood."   
  
"A curious metaphor," said Morrigan, "but one which I am willing to indulge, at least for the time being." 

***

It was times like these that Solona felt like she could congratulate herself on her foresight and ingenuity. If she'd had to deal with Morrigan's badly-cobbled fashion statement, the process of undressing would have slowed the whole affair down to an unacceptable crawl. Since she had cajoled the witch into swapping her ghastly attire in order to enhance her magical protections, though, her prospects looked bright indeed.   
  
Solona brushed a quick kiss onto Morrigan's mouth and whispered, "Relax," before slipping one hand up the slit in her robes and cupping her breast with the other.   
  
"Are..." Morrigan started to say, and her voice cracked. "Are you not moving... awfully quickly, Warden?"   
  
Solona laughed softly and squeezed her breast, feeling the nipple harden under her pinching fingers. "Too intense, Morrigan? Should I be more gentle?"   
  
A soft sigh escaped the witch's throat as Solona skimmed the skin of her thigh with barely-there fingertips.   
  
"Should I go... more slowly?" teased the Warden, brushing her fingers slowly farther and farther up. "Should I stop... here?"   
  
"I, uh... yes!" cried Morrigan. "Yes, slow down, please!"   
  
Solona stifled her disappointment and skimmed her hand back down, settling her grip just above and behind Morrigan's knee. "Come here," she said, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of the witch's mouth. "See? Nothing to be afraid of."   
  
"I am not afraid!" exclaimed Morrigan, her voice shaking. "This is just... quite unusual. That is all."   
  
"It's not that different from what you've done in the past," said Solona.   
  
She kissed her again, trying for a slower, deeper style of kiss, slipping in just a little tongue and holding back, waiting for a response. In the past that had always been swift and eager, a soft mouth with a curious tongue, a moan, a body pushed up against hers. Morrigan was slower and more hesitant, but definitely responsive. Her pricking ears picked up her soft sighs molding into a deeper moan, and she thought she felt her shiver. Perhaps it was the cool night air.   
  
"Should we continue this here, Morrigan?" she asked when she broke the kiss. "True, the night air is fresh and cool, but perhaps a little warmth and, well, privacy, is called for."   
  
"Privacy," said Morrigan, "yes, indeed."   
  
Solona smiled a small, private smile. She stood and held her hand out to the witch, helping her to her feet, watching her fuss with her mussed robes. Morrigan entered her tent, wobbling a little, and Solona followed close behind. Once inside, she slipped off her boots and plopped down on the cot, stretching out her arms and legs.   
  
"It's nice to be out of the wind," she said conspiratorially, "and prying eyes."   
  
Morrigan knelt beside the cot and regarded her through lowered lashes.   
  
"I've never met a shy witch before," said Solona. "It will be difficult for me to inspire you to cry out my name if you stay so far away." 

She patted the cot beside her, and Morrigan sidled over. Her skin, it seemed, was too ghostly pale to flush, but her whole attitude bespoke of nerves and awkwardness. When Solona propped herself up and both elbows and looked up at her, Morrigan descended for a kiss. This, too, started slow, but quickened much sooner. Solona snaked her hand up behind Morrigan's neck and pulled her down on top of her. Morrigan fumbled, but eventually landed with one knee to either side of Solona's hips.   
  
With infinite care, Solona slid her hand down and settled it on the small of Morrigan's back, steady and warm. Morrigan broke the kiss first, panting slightly, and Solona took advantage to press her mouth to the crook of her neck, close by her racing pulse. The witch mumbled something incoherent as Solona nibbled and licked her way down her neck and the mercifully deep cut of her robes, settling her tongue on the tender skin between her breasts.   
  
"Still going too fast?" she asked breathlessly. "Should I slow down?"   
  
Morrigan moaned in response, and Solona took it as a signal to push her and shift their bodies around into a more favorable position. Maker knew she always liked to be on top. Morrigan's only response was to dig her fingers into Solona's hair, which she took as approval. Her fingers made short work of the ties of her robes, exposing her soft, warm skin, so sensitive to every small touch. Her fingers teased while her mouth closed on one hard nipple, eliciting a startlingly loud moan.   
  
Solona gently scraped Morrigan's skin with her teeth and felt her hips rising to grind against her. She rose up and shifted, tugging at the offending robes until they bunched around Morrigan's slender waist, and grabbed her pelvis with both hands.   
  
"Up," she grunted at the witch. "These come off."   
  
Obediently, Morrigan raised her hips, bracing her hands on the thin mattress. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Solona pulled off her robes, exposing her, and pushed her hand up her knees to her inner thighs, parting them without protest.   
  
"Will you not lay yourself bare as I have?" asked the witch, her voice husky. "Must I take on all the sacrifices of vulnerability myself?"   
  
Solona laughed deeply. "As you will," she said, and rocked back onto her heels to more easily slip out of her Enchanter's robes, leaving her in small clothes and skin.   
  
Morrigan, of course, saw no need for such frivolities as undergarments. Her white thighs were bare and sticky with her arousal, and Solona thrilled at the sight of her damp slit. Her fingers closed hard against Morrigan's flesh, pushing her open, too winded to care about slow and gentle anymore. She descended on her with her mouth, her tongue slipping easily into the wet slit and Morrigan's moans baiting her on. She circled her clit once or twice and pushed deeper, feeling muscles tense under her gripping hand.   
  
Her moans were louder and more desperate now, a begging whimper more than anything. Satisfied, Solona rose and sat back on her haunches to watch the writhing body beneath her. She smiled and licked her lips.   
  
Morrigan panted, "You are not going to leave me in this state, are you?" she whined.   
  
"Oh, no," said Solona. "That would be ever so cruel."   
  
She flicked her thumb against the witch's clit and watched as she bucked and moaned.   
  
"I may have to tie you down, though," she said.   
  
"This is torture!" cried Morrigan.   
  
Solona's fingertip joined her thumb, pushing a little deeper into the soft, overheated hole. Her desperation made her lovely, writhing beneath her curious hands, sweat-soaked hair clinging to her face in clumps, pink lips panting out half-words. Solona savored it for another moment before she pushed in three fingers and began pumping them in a slowly increasing rhythm. Morrigan cried out, long and raw, her hands gripping the mattress as she clenched around Solona's hand before collapsing back, languid and exhausted.   
  
"That," said Solona, sucking her juices off each finger in turn, "is how two women fuck. Any questions?"   
  
Morrigan shook her head mutely before letting it fall pack to the cot, still trying to catch her breath. 


End file.
